(sounds of nature at night) (large bird flaps wings) (call, other birds scatter) In this moment, past pretense and nostalgia wails and incantations confined by laws of the market, I sit alone with his body.

I touch his forehead.

He is still warm.

The Director of Nursing worries I might be angry.

“Jim had a good day yesterday,” she says.

If she had called to tell me I might have come to him, might have been with him when he died.

(Appalachian slow fiddle music) (footsteps, interior sounds) Kiki said when she cleaned Jim, (whispered) “on a bed sore, This place is like a pretty woman with a big butt, this fancy building with nothing inside.

The only reason I do my job is I don’t want to go to hell.” (lively music, breakfast dishes) A group of women hold purses.

“When someone comes through that door I’ll hold it open and you run.” No one comes through the door.

They grow tired and drift off to separate rooms to sleep and forget.

“This is Mario,” Cliff says introducing his dog the night Jim forgets how to swallow so agitated he tries to walk, writhing in pain and terror.

Cliff pats Jim on the shoulders, says over and over, “It’s all right buddy, it’s all right.” (dog whimpers) Two days later, the dog is gone.

Cliff walks around with an empty leash.

The plastic cup in Jim’s room, a vase for small flowers Betsy picks from raised beds in the locked area outside.

When she is pissed off, Betsy takes off her clothes.

She lies in flowerbeds, naked in the sun and begs for heaven.

(distant children's voices, natural sounds) (Appalachian waltz) Lois in a silk blouse, Air Force husband weeping not able to remember the names of planes he flew, opens the door I push Jim outside to get a breath, to hear a bird, to feel the hot Texas wind.

Lois says, “Look at that blue sky.

There’s nothing but blue in that sky.” (instrumental "Amazing Grace") (Jim's voice) Well here we are.

One of the many things that has made me angry over the years There was a report done by the Cincinnati police that these people, meaning the Appalachians didn’t feel pain, could not learn, were inherently violent and that the only policy to be pursued towards them was one of containment.

When Martin Luther King was killed I cried.

It just happened I don’t know why.

(mourning dove, early morning sounds) The full moon early morning when Jim died, Opal with pink eyelids waits for breakfast.

She sings in rhythm to the clanging of breakfast dishes, “Good night Irene, Good night Irene, I’ll see you in my dreams."

([sound of winding toys, dance steps) I put Jim’s toys outside on a table, the whack-a-mole with wooden mallet and pegs.

Baby toys, the Activity Director says to the workers.

Baby toys!

(footsteps leaving) Isabella clutches her stuffed animal And rocks herself, chin on chest next to the programmed fire.

(vulture call and music) I talk with the facility director.

I talk with the hospice director.

Both blame workers and say they will investigate.

“Don’t,” I say.

“Jim spent his life fighting for workers.” (sounds of vutures competing and other birds) (explosion and sound of breaking glass) I know that I failed him.

I hold his heart in my hands.

I see Jim dying in his Hosea Hudson shirt.

There’s got to be a greater truth in this good man’s suffering.

I am trapped in the numb place of witness.

I am beside myself.

Above me in a black suit with greedy eyes, a vulture waits to offer condolences.

(distant train whistle and wheels on the track) (music and natural sounds) (sounds of children playing) (chainsaw) (woman on picket line) it's our jobs, our town, the union's here to stay.

Perhaps you, my beloved reader, can find a way for love to push out profit.

In that different death Jim grows as big as the universe.

My heart empties into light.

(breathing, music, and natural sounds) He was a very good organizer.

He was actually a good man if you got to know him.

(laughter at Jim's memorial) He was working in the coal mines and we got attacked.

Jim made sure nobody touched us.

You have to love each other, actually have to love each other.

There’s something good about that.

You need someone who can sit there with complete calm and accept you.

When you thought of Jim, you thought, I love Jim.

Watching him come home from work and pull Ruby into his lap and tell stories and they would read books together and sing songs together.

And I would be watching as my belly was growing bigger with my own kids.

Gave me good advice Your kids are perfect.

They just need to leave them alone.

[laughter at memorial] (music and natural sounds, loon call)